


New Beginnings, September 1973

by BobbyCrocker101



Category: Kojak
Genre: 1970s, Detectives, Gen, Gold Shield, Manhattan South, NYPD, New York City, Patrol Officers, Police officers, Promotion, Recruitment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobbyCrocker101/pseuds/BobbyCrocker101
Summary: Told in three sections, this is my story of how Bobby Crocker became part of Theo Kojak's team of detectives at Manhattan South.This is an original story set in September 1973.Feedback welcome





	New Beginnings, September 1973

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters belong to me; I'm just playing with them for a while before putting them back in their box. No money is being, or will be made from this story.
> 
> I was 15 in September 1973 when "Kojak" first aired, and had other things to do. Now I'm retired I’ve finally watched this wonderful old TV show for the first time. I’m from the UK and have never visited the US, but have made use of the internet to gain information about the NYPD, the US Army in Vietnam, and the city of New York. I apologise in advance for any language confusion.
> 
> This story is set in September 1973 when the first episode originally aired and I've included bits of information picked up about the characters while watching the five series. For instance in the Season 1 episode “The Girl in the River” (1973) Crocker reveals he has knowledge of a method of killing used in Vietnam. In the Season 2 episode “Unwanted Partners” (1974) he reveals that he’d been in the Army. I’m therefore assuming he saw some service in the Vietnam War. In the Season 1 episode “Last Rites for a Dead Priest” (January 1974) Kojak is reminded that Crocker wasn’t with the team during a jewel heist the previous January. In the Season 4 episode “Law Dance” (1976), Crocker reveals that he’s been a detective for four years, and in the Season 4 episode “Kiss it all Good-bye” (1977), Kojak refers to Crocker as a six-year veteran. 
> 
> However, I have made some changes. For example in the Season 2 episode “Nursemaid” Crocker’s ID shows him to have been born in 1943 which would make him 30 in 1973, but because he's occasionally referred to as being very young and is often called "Kid" or "Junior", my version of him is younger at 22. In the season 1 episode “Deliver us Some Evil” (1974) Crocker mentions a sister, but since she's never mentioned again, I've created my own version of her. She is the only 'biological' relative I'm allowing him to have. And as little is known about his back story, I've made up my own.
> 
> All this means (in my world anyway) that he was born in 1951 enlisted at age 18, just before the draft came into effect, and served in the Army between 1969 and 1971, joined the NYPD in late 1971, did 6 months training at the Police Academy, graduating in the summer of 1972, and then served as a patrol officer until the autumn of 1973, when he was “promoted” to Detective Third Grade. 
> 
> Original characters: Molly Donovan, Artie Donovan, Lt Al Freeman, Lt Gerry Matthews, Mrs Helen Matthews, Officer "Marge", "Peddlin'" Paulo Ramirez, Gina Elena Barrantes, Rose Crocker, Father Enrique Ortega
> 
> The Ronald Winter trophy is my own invention, and is named after a dear friend.
> 
> Spoilers: Tiny spoilers for the Season 4 episode "Law Dance" (1976), and the Season 2 episode 'A Killing in the Second House' (1974), and of course it would help to be familiar with the show.

Section 1: Theo Kojak

Lt Theo Kojak looked up from his desk and into the squad room. He’d been a lieutenant for a little over two years now, and in that time most of the detectives he’d inherited had either resigned or retired; unable to cope with his sometimes questionable methods, unpredictable temper, or the fact that the man who was once an equal was now the boss and had stepped on a lot of toes to get where he was. Replacements too had come and gone, and just last week he'd had to fire Detective Ray Kaufman for taking bribes, and the empty desks were now beginning to outnumber the filled ones, and Freeman from 'downstairs' was getting fed up with Kojak from 'upstairs' borrowing his men. The detectives that remained were good at their jobs, and for the most part knew how to keep on his good side, but none of them were going to set the world ablaze, and were getting too set in their ways.

Rizzo and Saperstein were both in their forties. Saperstein was married, with a son. Great things had been expected of him but one too many disappointments over the years and pressures at home had caused the fire to go out. Rizzo, unmarried and hanging on by his finger nails, was lazy and steadily putting on weight. He preferred to spend his time reading the latest issue of the Racing Form to doing any actual work. Both were Grade Three detectives and would most likely remain so, often being paired up on assignments. The lieutenant was happy to indulge Rizzo’s gambling habit to a point, just as he was happy to indulge Stavros and his plants.

Like him, Stavros had never married; there had been no shortage of opportunities, but the job had always come first. They’d known one another for many years through their shared Greek heritage, and Stavros also knew that despite the shouting and name-calling he always had the lieutenant’s admiration and respect. He had been a good cop when he was younger, and had made it to the rank of sergeant, and was a Detective Second Grade, but now at 49 he was grossly overweight, slow, and heading for a heart attack, stroke or retirement – whichever came first.

Then there was Al Vine and Tracy, who like him were in their fifties. Vine was responsible for the staff chart, not an easy task considering the current lack of manpower.

The lieutenant continued to watch his team. What he wanted was someone with a bit of energy, someone to stir the others up a little – relight the fire. For years there had been an unofficial competition between the NYPD captains to see which detectives division could achieve the most arrests each year. Manhattan South was always somewhere in the middle and he knew his captain wanted better. The winner’s 'prize', the Ronald Winter Trophy may only be a battered home-made tin cup, but McNeil was desperate for some kudos for his precinct.

****

“Frank, we need another D3, the paperwork is piling up, the men are overdue for leave, even Stavros’s plant is wilting at the edges,” Kojak announced as he walked into Captain Frank McNeil’s office the following morning, cigarette in hand.

“I couldn’t agree more Theo, in fact I spoke with 'upstairs' last night and they’ve given us the green light to recruit someone. I’ve already checked with Central and there are a couple of detectives wanting to transfer from their current assignments, I’ll get their files sent over…” the lieutenant grunted.

“I don’t want rejects from other precincts, Frank. I want to select my own man!”

“Fine with me Theo, who do you have in mind?” the captain replied.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll know him when I see him – or her," Kojak added with a smile when McNeil raised his eyebrows. The days when you could request male personnel only were long over. These days female police officers did a lot more than just typing and writing parking tickets.

“You can’t just go round stealing detectives from other departments Theo!”

“I know Frank, but bear with me on this one OK?”

“Fine, but don’t take too long, I don’t want a rebellion on my hands, and I don’t want to be the one to have to scrape Stavros off the floor when he collapses with exhaustion!”

As it happened, Kojak already had an idea of who he wanted. The previous evening he’d met up with some of his police buddies for dinner and they had been discussing the latest rising stars in the department. One name had come up in the conversation several times: that of Patrol Officer Robert Crocker. It had been enough to pique the lieutenant’s curiosity.

He went back to his office, and picking up his coat decided to go and visit Gerry Matthews, the supervisory lieutenant down town at the NYPD’s Central Records Department.

****

“Matt, I’m shopping for a new D3," Kojak announced as he walked up to the large staff desk.

“Well I’m not taking a demotion Theo, Helen would kill me," Matthews replied. Kojak patted the other man's face. 

“Very funny, just don't give up the day job alright? I want to have a look at the personnel file for Patrol Officer Robert Crocker and the files for the cases he’s worked on over the past six months."

“You’re not the first to show an interest in that young man: the 'brass' has had their eye on him for a while now,” Matthews began, "they seem to think he’s some kind of wunderkind. Make yourself comfortable I’ll get Marge here to get the files out and bring them over to you.”

“You’re beautiful. Thanks Matt.” Kojak walked into the reading room and made himself comfortable at a desk near the window; a few minutes later, a female officer approached carrying a pile of folders, and gave him clear instructions as to when they needed to be returned. He thanked the woman and kissed her hand, making her blush. When you’ve got it you've got it… he thought to himself. He took Crocker’s personnel file from the top of the pile and began to read.

The first thing that came to his attention was the photograph attached inside the cover. It wasn’t of a particularly good quality, they never were. He remembered meeting Crocker just once, briefly, when the young man had been 'first officer on the scene' at a recent case involving a robbery at a Ju$t Pawn shop, and recalled making a wise crack about how young he'd seemed; further investigation would reveal that Crocker was currently twenty-two years old, and just over a year out of the Academy. Kojak began to read.

According to his birth certificate, which Kojak noticed was a photocopy of a certified copy rather than a photocopy of the original, Robert Crocker, had been born Robert Barrantes in Jackson Heights, Queens, on March 18th 1951. His mother was listed as a Gina Elena Barrantes. A dash was in the box where his father's name should have been. Kojak also noticed that the actual birthplace wasn’t listed, and that his birth had been registered by a Father Enrique Ortega. Attached to the page was a copy of a form indicating a change of surname from Barrantes to Crocker in 1961 when he would have been ten years old and also the lieutenant noticed, when his mother had died. He brought to mind an image of the young officer and mused to himself that the kid hadn’t looked particularly Hispanic. Still, who knew? Crocker had attended the Monsignor McClancy High School from where he'd graduated in 1969 aged 18. His grades had been too low for automatic admission, but he'd gained a place at the Police Academy after completing the required minimum of two years of exemplary service in the Army, which after basic training at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri, had been spent with the Military Police Corps in Vietnam between September 1969 and September 1971, during which time the young man had been decorated, and had furthered his education via the GI Bill. Kojak also noticed that Crocker had enlisted just before the draft had come into effect. After the service the young man had joined the NYPD. His current assignment was as a patrol officer under Lt Al Freeman, the supervisor for the downstairs part of the 11th Precinct. His religion was listed as Roman Catholic: the captain would be happy, and his current address was listed as 85th Street, Queens, which, Kojak noted, meant a long subway ride to and from work each day. 

Turning to the next page in the file, which listed dependents and next of kin he saw that Crocker's next of kin was a Ms Rose Crocker: his sister, and a Mrs Molly Donovan, both currently living in Queens, on 91st Street. He smiled. Everyone knew the Donovans. Artie, who had passed away three years ago had once been a patrol officer, and after taking early retirement had helped Molly full-time with the waifs and strays she collected. He remembered Artie had once remarked that he never knew who he’d find round the dinner table when he arrived home from work. In those days they'd lived off Roosevelt Avenue Kojak recalled. They’d been unable to have any children of their own and Molly had made it her life’s work to help any stray kids she could, even if it was just giving them a meal or an old shirt of Artie’s she’d cut down. Kojak had even heard of her walking the streets at night, in search of any children reported missing in the neighbourhood. Over the years she and Artie had fostered many children and he'd often called upon them when dealing with runaways. He could imagine that Artie was also somehow instrumental in steering a young Robert Crocker towards a career in the Police. The kid had had a rough start in life; absent father, mother dying when he was only ten. When you grow up in the Jackson Heights projects you don’t expect to have things like museums and art galleries named after you; you only think about surviving and getting out, and thanks to some old friends it seemed Robert Crocker had done just that. 

The last page of Crocker’s file contained basic medical information, and apart from a propensity to migraines the young man appeared to be extremely fit physically, and his psych test results were pretty much perfect. He was a non-smoker, moderate drinker, and non-drug user. Pretty much a perfect specimen Kojak thought. 

Next he looked through the case files, and was impressed with what he saw. Just four weeks out of the Academy Crocker had come across a triple murder and robbery at the Award Diner on Vestry Street and as well as calling it in had chased one Burl Slote for five blocks, and up four flights of stairs, while being shot at, before finally catching and arresting him in his apartment as he tried to escape through an open window. For this Crocker had received the first of several commendations.

The next case was the robbery at the Ju$t Pawn shop. Shots had been fired from inside, Crocker had made the call for assistance, and had entered the shop to find one person on the ground bleeding, and another taking cover with his hands up and pointing to the back of the shop. In the back had been another person lying bleeding on the floor. A split-second later the shooter had come out from behind a stack of shelves and had started firing. But Crocker had been ready and had shot the guy in the arm; he fell to the ground behind the counter. By the time Kojak and his detectives had arrived on the scene it was all but over. He’d found Crocker busy taking witness statements having already cuffed his prisoner. He’d got the coroner and an ambulance on the scene, and he had supplied the lieutenant with notes pertaining to the number of shots fired, the number of people in the building, and the condition they were in. He'd also received another commendation.

Another case had involved a drugs bust. Crocker had chased a dealer across several roof tops. The man had then run down a fire escape, tripped over some boxes and then had the young officer, who had jumped from the first floor, land on top of him. A wunderkind indeed, the lieutenant thought.

There were several other arrests, and all but one, for which the case was still pending, had led to a conviction. Crocker had been 'first officer on the scene' on a number of occasions and seemed to have a gift for spotting things missed by more senior officers. It seemed he was well on his way to a gold detective’s shield.

The lieutenant decided THIS was the man he wanted on his team, someone young and eager. Crocker was too good an officer to remain outside pounding the streets. Here was someone he could mentor, mould in his own image as it were. Crocker was a good cop, but with the right guidance he could be a great detective. All he had to do was convince the captain. Picking up the files he made his way back to the staff desk and smiling sweetly and kissing her hand again, he shamelessly used his charms to persuade Marge to let him keep hold of Crocker’s files for a while and headed back to his office.

****

“I’ve found what I’m looking for Frank,” Kojak announced smiling, lighting the first of many cigarettes.

“I heard you’d been over to Records. Who’ve you got your eye on?” The lieutenant handed over the file. McNeil flicked through the pages. “'Upstairs' have had their eye on this young man for some time, they think the way he’s going he could make lieutenant by the time he’s thirty. However I do have some concerns…” Kojak sensing bad news cut the captain off.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say Frank; he’s very young, and inexperienced, but after all we all started out like that. He’s too good to leave out on the streets. I could work with him Frank, mentor him to greatness.” McNeil wasn’t smiling. Theo Kojak playing God was never a good sign.

“Theo, not only is he very young, he’s also got a reputation for being a hothead; he’s come close to being reprimanded twice this month already because of his outspokenness."

“So he’s passionate about his work Frank, what’s wrong with that?” Kojak was reminded of Crocker’s heritage. The kid had probably inherited his mother's Latin temperament.

“I have enough worries with YOUR temper Theo; we’ve already lost three good detectives this year. Two hotheads working together in the same space for hours, maybe DAYS on end? I’m not sure my heart could stand it. What about Franklin, or Michaels? I know he’s the Chief’s nephew, but he’s a good cop, married, older, less volatile….” But Kojak wasn’t budging. McNeil picked up Crocker’s case files and flicked through them. He glanced back at his friend and sighed, “His record is certainly very impressive. You’re absolutely sure about him?” he asked "Even though there are other officers out there much nearer to receiving a gold shield than he is."

“With the right encouragement he could be a great detective. I can work with him Frank; perhaps help him to reign in some of that temper, which may just be frustration. He could work exclusively for me, help me with my load to begin with and then after a while, he could take on his own cases and like that."

“And you think you’re the man to mentor him?” McNeil asked. The lieutenant put on his best smile.

“Who else is there baby?” McNeil sighed. He knew when he was beaten.

“OK Theo, I’ll start the ball rolling and put in the request to get him transferred to us." McNeil began feeling sorry for the kid already.

Theo smiled, knowing he’d won the battle. Piece of cake he thought.

****

Later that day Kojak was sitting in Stella’s bar waiting for Lieutenant Al Freeman to arrive. They’d spoken on the phone a couple of hours earlier and Freeman had assured him that Crocker was out on patrol, and not likely to appear in the bar any time soon.

“So Theo, I hear you’re interested in taking on young Crocker.” Freeman began, bringing a couple of beers over.

“"McNeil's putting the request through to Headquarters as we speak."

“Crocker's a good cop Theo, although I guess you already know that otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation."

“Yeah, it’s all there in his file Al, but I want to know about the man I’m hoping to have working for me. What’s he like as a person?”

“I don’t know that much about him on personal level. Lives over in Jackson Heights I think. He's a popular guy with the ladies, keeps himself extremely fit, attends church, drinks beer, likes football, basketball, baseball - although coming from Queens he is of course a Mets fan..." Kojak raised his eyes to the ceiling: aside from those officers who hailed from other parts of the country, just about everyone at the 11th Precinct supported the Yankees. I also heard he spends a lot of his spare time helping out down at the VA." Freeman continued, "He’s a good kid Theo, a tough kid. But then he’s HAD to be given where he's from." The two men spent a few moments talking about the previous night’s riot in Jackson Heights, the third in as many days. Freeman continued, “I’ve never had any complaints about his work; he doesn’t have a problem working through the night if asked, in fact back in December he volunteered to work the night shift on Christmas Eve to allow Jenkins to spend time with his kid before he shipped out to Vietnam.”

“Sounds like a saint,” Kojak remarked smiling and lighting a cigarillo.

“I wouldn’t go THAT far Theo; the kid’s got a temper on him. I imagine growing up he answered with his fists before his mouth at times, and he can be outspoken and naïve, but he’s young. Sometimes I forget just how young he is."

****

A couple of days later, Kojak was standing by his car smoking and enjoying the morning sun when Freeman joined him.

“Well Theo, if you want to see Crocker in action now’s your chance; he's just 'picked up' Paulo Ramirez, and is on his way back in.”

“’Peddlin’ Paulo’…” Kojak replied, “We’ve been after that piece of slime for months.”

“He was caught red-handed, dealing to a minor this time by the sound of it, in the alley round the back of Rosenthal’s deli."

As they stood in front of the parked cars smoking a squad car pulled up. Crocker got out of the back shoving his cuffed prisoner ahead of him. He acknowledged the two lieutenants before tugging Ramirez inside to be processed. Kojak and Freeman followed and walking passed the booking in desk went to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

They watched as Crocker shoved Ramirez against the desk, holding him in place while the booking-in forms were completed.

“Hey! Mind the threads man; I paid good money for this suit you know!” Ramirez yelled. Crocker glared at him, pushing him harder against the desk.

“Yeah, yeah, mail it to me last week when I might have cared!” Crocker replied.

Kojak smiled and headed on up the stairs to the Detectives Division knowing Crocker would soon follow. Ten minutes later there was a knock at his door.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant?” Kojak looked up from his desk and found himself looking at a tall slim young man with fair skin, dark curly hair, a shy smile and expressive grey eyes. “This here is Paulo Ramirez, I was asked to bring him up to you personally.”

“Stavros!” the lieutenant yelled, causing the younger man to jump. A large man with a mop of dark curly dark hair appeared in the doorway, a watering can in his hand.

“Yes Lieutenant? Hi Bobby” Crocker acknowledged the other man with a friendly nod.

“Take… this," Kojak started, pointing at Ramirez. “Get a new set of prints and mug shots taken and then put him in the holding pen until I’m ready to speak to him.” Stavros relieved Crocker of his prisoner and the younger man headed back downstairs.

“Stavros! Get back in here!” the lieutenant roared a few minutes later. The other man arrived back in the office, this time carrying a plant.

“I take it you know Crocker,” he started.

“Yes sir. He’s helped Braddock and me with a few cases. He’s a good man.”

“So you don’t think anyone on the squad would have a problem working with him if he were sent up here on a permanent basis.”

“No sir.” Stavros replied, sensing something 'interesting' was about to happen.

****

A week later McNeil and Kojak walked into the Squad Room; it was Friday afternoon and for once everyone was present, which made a pleasant change.

“Theo, if you’d like to do the honours…” the captain began.

“Right, listen up!” the lieutenant began. Apart from the teletype machine chattering away in the background the room was silent. “With immediate effect, we have a newly promoted Detective Third Grade joining us, Robert Crocker, currently assigned as a patrol officer downstairs. I believe some of you already know him, but I expect all of you to make him welcome. He’s young, and not long out of the Academy, but he’s already made more arrests this year than all you schmucks put together. He’s here to learn, and will be working exclusively for me, and will have my authority to ask for, make that order, your assistance if required. Are there any questions?” The room remained silent, and then a buzz of quiet excitement began to fill the room.

****

Friday evening found lieutenants Kojak and Freeman standing by the booking-in desk on the ground floor. They’d decided to have a little fun. Crocker was due to end his shift and would be arriving back at the precinct any minute. At 18:00 the young man arrived in the foyer. He exchanged greetings with the lieutenants and after signing out at the desk headed off to his locker.

“Crocker?” Freeman called out. “Could you come here a minute, there’s something I need to discuss with you.” Bobby headed back to where the two older men were standing.

“Lieutenant?” he asked, wondering what he’d done wrong. He couldn’t think of anything.

“There's something I've been ordered to do, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to let you go Bobby," Freeman continued and reaching out removed Crocker’s silver shield from his uniform, much to the younger man’s consternation, and then replaced it with a gold one. “Congratulations Detective, you’ve earned it!” The men at the desk cheered loudly and applauded, pleased to see one of their own doing well. Bobby was absolutely stunned and once he'd got himself under control performed an elaborate bow towards the desk. Lieutenant Freeman continued, "You remember Lieutenant Kojak from upstairs?“ The two men shook hands. "You've been assigned to his tender care. Be gentle with him!" 

“Congratulations kid,” Kojak patted the young man on the shoulder, noticing a slight flinch. “You’re playing in the major leagues now, come upstairs and meet the chief gorilla and the rest of the monkeys, and then I’ll fill you in on your new duties.”

Section 2: Bobby Crocker

On the occasion of his thirteenth birthday Artie Donovan had taken Bobby Crocker up to the observation deck on the 102nd floor of the Empire State Building, then the tallest building in the world. As he’d gazed in wonder at the city far below Artie had said,

“You’re going to take care of all the people in this city some day Bobby." He’d taken a kid headed in the wrong direction and had pointed him to a damned fine and good career.

Bobby remembered those words now as he stood on the empty rooftop observation deck of the newly-opened Number Two World Trade Center, currently the second tallest building in the world after its twin. He stood still; his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the city, the roar of the wind, inhaling the smells of a thousand worlds, feeling the building sway slightly in the wind, and smiled, silently vowing to always make Artie proud. The only father he’d ever known had died while he’d been away in Vietnam, but on some occasions like today he could still feel his presence.

As he stood in silence he felt something brush his hand. He opened his eyes and looked down to see his sister looking up at him her dark eyes shining with pride. Bobby kissed her and then laughed as she jumped up and down with excitement as he showed her his shiny new gold badge. He noticed she was wearing the coat he’d bought her last Christmas; mid-calf length with fur round the bottom and the hood and fastened from top to bottom with a long line of buttons. The ensemble was finished off with a home-made multi-coloured scarf that must have been at least as long as she was tall and white knee-length heeled boots with platform soles. She was eighteen now, and no longer the little girl he’d fought so hard to protect. She had grown into a beautiful young woman and was about to begin a course at the CCNY, hoping one day to become a special needs teacher. She'd already met some of her classmates and a group of them had arranged to share an apartment in Greenwich Village. He asked if she was OK and then put an arm around her as they huddled together against the cold looking at the millions of sparkling lights below.

Today had been like a dream, he’d been presented with a gold detective’s shield; something he'd dreamed of having one day, but didn’t imagine he’d receive for many years, after all some cops could serve on the force for decades before receiving one. He had no idea why he'd been selected, but he HAD learned that he'd been personally requested by Lieutenant Kojak himself. It was a huge honour and he was eager to learn. He was now assigned to the Detective's Division upstairs at the 11th Precinct, and would be working directly with the man. The lieutenant had a reputation for being a bully, but Bobby had also heard that he could also be compassionate and kind. If nothing else, the future would certainly be 'interesting'.

He turned to find Molly watching them from the seating area.

“I hope you brought some of your chicken soup with you Molly,” Bobby called out over the wind. It had always been a special way to celebrate achievements for the pair of them; Molly’s famous home-made chicken soup, ideal for this chilly September evening. He watched as she reached into her bag and brought out a large flask and three mugs. He and Rose went to fetch their drinks, before the three of them returned to the guard rail. They stood there in silence. With Molly on one side of him and his Rosie on the other life couldn’t get any better he thought. He took Molly’s free hand in his and squeezed it gently before kissing her on the top of her head.

Section 3: Molly Donovan

Molly and Rose had arrived on the observation deck and she’d spotted 'her boy' almost immediately standing in a corner looking out over the city. Even with his back to them she knew his eyes would be closed. She’d seen him do this on many occasions. It was as if he was 'processing' or perhaps meditating she decided; something he’d started to do after returning from Vietnam to calm himself. She also sensed he was thinking of Artie who would have been so proud. He’d passed away while Bobby had been overseas, and it had been weeks before he’d heard as he’d been away from his home base 'up country'. He’d been devastated. Pulling Rose to sit down next to her she allowed Bobby to have his moment, pleased that he had something of his own to celebrate, but finally the young woman had broken free of her and gone to her big brother.

She watched as Bobby put a protective arm around his sister and huddled close to keep her warm. People who met them for the first time always found it hard to believe they were related given how different they were, not just in appearance, but also in personality. Neither of them knew who their fathers were, they only knew that it wasn't the same man. Rose with her long dark straight hair and brown eyes had been born with the gift of contentment. She would do well in whatever career she chose as she was a people person. People were fascinated by her. Bobby with his fair skin, dark curly hair and expressive grey eyes was, despite outward appearances, the quieter one of the two and sometimes seemed lost, like a ship without an anchor. He cared an awful lot and always tried hard to please, but he also had a hot temper, probably inherited from his mother, Molly decided.

She thought back to the first time she'd laid eyes on the pair of them, huddled against the cold and rain in a shop doorway. He'd been ten years old at the time and Rose six. In those days she and Artie lived off Roosevelt Avenue. She'd taken the children back to her house and they'd stayed with her and Artie until someone claiming to be a relative had turned up with a police officer to take them home. Molly had noticed how wary the children had been, and had made Artie promise to keep an eye on them. She'd seen the children regularly over the weeks that followed, and more than once had seen bruises on Bobby's face. The boy always said he'd been fighting at school or falling out of trees, but Molly wasn't convinced and suspected something else was going on. More than once she'd contacted social services who would bring the children to her, but only on a temporary basis while their home situation was checked out. Molly figured that it would only be a matter of time before Bobby and Rose were permanently placed into the care system where they'd likely be separated which would break her heart: they belonged together. Artie would visit their home from time to time to check on their mother, but she moved around a lot. Then one day he couldn't find Bobby and Rose anywhere, or the next day. Suspecting something was seriously wrong he called a couple of his cop buddies and went in search of 'his kids'. 

Molly never knew what Artie and his buddies found that day, but she could guess; He had never said much and Bobby had never spoken about it. She'd received a call from Artie that evening: he'd found the children hiding in the church and they'd been taken to the hospital. He told Molly to meet him there. When she arrived he told her the children's mother was dead, murdered by the looks of it. The kids were a little shaken but otherwise OK, and he'd decided enough was enough and they would be coming home to live with them, permanently. Over the next few months he'd called in a lot of favours and the necessary change of guardianship papers had been prepared and signed. Shortly after that he'd taken early retirement from the Force and they'd moved to her father's house on 91st Street and for Bobby and Rose's protection had gone through the appropriate channels and had their surname changed. Knowing they couldn't pass them off as their own offspring they'd given the children her father's surname: Crocker - that way if anyone asked they would tell them the children were part of Molly's extended family. As it would turn out - no one ever asked.

Molly didn't think Rose remembered very much about that night, but Bobby was four years older, and she had no doubts that HE remembered everything. She'd witnessed enough of his nightmares to know that. Whatever had happened back then must have been bad because Artie had always talked to her about his work, but on that occasion she could get very little out of him. In his opinion the children were safe, and that was all that mattered.

As she watched the pair of them over at the rail her heart went out to Bobby. He had given up so much of what he might have had in order to protect his little sister. She was a bright kid, and would soon be leaving home to start a course at the university, an opportunity that had been denied Bobby due to too many missed days of school earlier in his life. But he HAD taken full advantage of the educational services available through the GI Bill and he was gifted in other ways. Not long after he and Rose had come to live with them the boy had watched as she played the organ in church one Sunday, and had been fascinated enough to ask to learn. She had taught him the basics, but recognising Bobby had a special gift she had paid for him to have piano lessons. He had learned fast and now years later he played far better than she ever would, and Molly noticed that playing music had the added bonus of calming him, and now thanks to having a job he loved she hoped he would finally drop anchor. She smiled to herself and looked up to find the two of them looking at her.

“I hope you brought some chicken soup with you Molly," Bobby had called out over the wind. He watched as she reached into her bag and brought out a large flask and three mugs. He and Rose came over and helped her carry the drinks back to the rail. Standing there admiring the view she felt him take her free hand in his and squeeze it gently and then he kissed her on the top of her head. Her 'children' had done her proud. Life was good.


End file.
